Midnight Whispers
by inksmudged
Summary: A series of oneshots featuring manly dreams of feminine wiles. Various pairings. [Original: Kartik dreams of a special visitor. But is it a dream?] [Update: Ithal longs for Felicity, but knows he can never have her.] Updated sporadically.
1. Kartik

_I just wanted to write a steamy Gemma-Kartik thing. Set sometime when Gemma's still at Spence and Kartik's living with the Gypsies. Kartik's POV. Oneshot. (Edit: fixed typos.)_

Night has fallen on our wooded refuge, and the fires have long since faded to low, heartless flames. The sounds of the night fill my ears – wind whispers silkily through the trees, sleeping Gypsies breathe deeply, lovers sigh into each other's mouths, their blankets rustling ever so slightly. I am restless, cagey. I want a warm body curled against me, soft lips pressed on mine, long red curls to run my fingers through…

Behind closed lids, I can see her, in all her imperfect perfection.

And then she is beside me. The glow from the fire casts her thin nightgown into transparency, but she is unashamed. Her skin is warm as she reaches out, and our fingers twine together, her small hand like a delicate bird in mine. I draw her towards me, and she does not resist. Her jade eyes are soft as she meets my gaze, licks her lips, leans into me. And then her kiss, and I am lost. I pull her onto me. My hands are tangled in her unbound hair, locked in flaming tendrils. Her lashes flutter against my eyelids – the feathers of angels. Her lips on mine are sweet, hungry, soft and warm. I bite her lip and she sighs, a sound that fills my ears like the roar of the ocean.

Her fingers are on my chest, tracing the contours of muscle and teasing me with feather-light touches. My hands are on her – everywhere. Her supple skin is like silk beneath my fingers, the swell of her breasts like the sweetest fruit. I follow the long lines of her legs over the gentle curve of her hips, drawing the hem of her nightgown slowly higher. Her jade eyes flutter open in shock when I press my hand to her in the most forbidden of touches, but then she softens, and her smile is warm as her fingers drift to the top of my trousers, fumbling with the laces…

And then I wake. I am alone, but for her taste on my lips, the ghost of her scent and the whisper of the tent flap as it swings softly against the other, unfastened…


	2. Ithal

_Ithal, thinking of Fee after the girls have left the Gypsy camp. I've decided he has a Gypsy lover, in addition to his dalliances with Fee._

Even surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, she is an arrogant princess. She thinks she might taunt me and I will not show my fangs. She is proud, haughty, this _gadje_. I want to tame her, to humble her. Her passion is a fire, ready to burn down the forest, but I would have her in my tent, warming my skin.

Instead, I have Nadia.

The moon rises high, swollen expectantly. The world is a breath – the hush of the wind, the gasp of fluttering leaves, the long sigh of waving grass. Nadia is a whisper against my neck, a sigh in my mouth. But when I return her kiss, I see the one who dances just out of my grasp.

Her skin is like gleaming bone in the flickering fire and the midnight moon, and her golden hair like silk ribbons. Finery. Expensive. I reach out tentatively and stroke the fine angle of her jaw. Her face softens, and she leans into me, her fingers curling into the rough fabric of my homespun tunic. The wind whispers sweetly, ruffling the hem of her nightgown.

She tilts her head back, smiling as our lips meet, velvet on leather. Her kiss is maddening, intoxicating. Her touch unravels my restraint. Hungry lips trace a fiery trail over my skin as her fingers trip deftly over the fastenings for my breeches. I relish the taste of her as I free her from her nightgown. Her bone white skin, her full breasts, her slim hips - she is the Godess brought to earth. I cradle her delicate frame beneath me, desperate to know her fully.

The wind shifts roughly, swaying the grass in an age-old rhythm. A dance that is old as the dawn of time. Panting is our drumbeat, sighs our harmony. The sounds of the night rush to a deafening crescendo.

And then my beautiful, forbidden creature has slipped away, lost. When I open my eyes again, Nadia lays beside me, smiling softly, a light sheen of moisture on her face. "My father will kill you," she murmurs.

_I know Ithal's English isn't so great. Imagine you read Romanian._


End file.
